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Part the Fifteenth; The Belly of the Beast
[arbitrary date+14?], time unknown, with luck in the dungeons of the city of the flower.
Dear journal. I record these words now with the knowledge that this may be my final entry. I, along with Nathurra and Fuchs, have been captured and imprisoned along with scores of who appear to be citizens of the city in the aftermath of our raid on gothic. I can spot none of our other companions, so with luck they escaped the temple, instead of being killed or imprisoned elsewhere. Most of my gear is still with me, as this entry attests, but my last word has been stolen, along with the weapons of my companions. I do not know what fate awaits us, but I shall face it with dignity and an unbowed back, but first I must record the events that brought me to this point.
I knew something was wrong the moment we entered the cathedral. We had a brief altercation with a trio of acolytes guarding the airship dock the moment we landed on the island, which should have brought the cathedral guardians and other occupants running, but the cathedral was completely quiet. It was almost a relief when we found a trio of priests praying near some portraits and were ambushed. There were a great many foes, but they fell easily. From the way some of them immolated, I can only assume these were more assassins like the the ones that struck at us in wynn. After briefly interrogating the priests, who stayed out of the fight, and appeared to be compelled in the same apalling way Alaesa is, we learned there were vampires further in, as suspected. We also learned why Alaesa is so circumspect about answering questions, as the priestess who warned us began to bleed profusely. I can only hope the healing naesra laid on her was enough, but back to the matter at hand in whatever time I have left.
We advanced to a chamber upstairs from the altar, following unholy chanting, and found a scene out of nightmare. There was a vampire in the priestly vestments of… kenna, I believe, presiding over a torture chamber full of the dead and dying. But no one was actually trapped in the machinery. The unclad ladies were just operating it over and over with no prisoners to torture. Clearly under the influence of some mental control. The vampire, whose name I did not catch, if it matters, rose from his throne and offered us a chance to convert.
Needless to say, we treated his offer with the derision it deserved, and were well on our way to dispatching him when the floor began to collapse, depositing our party, the frustrated torturers, and all the contents of the room into an immense net that had been strung just under the chamber, which gave us an eagles-eye view of an immense, and active, summoning circle. At this point all our arcanists begin to panic, and rightfully so. I'm not sure how I kept a level head, but my recollection gets a little fuzzy there. I remember baldric and I picking off cultists, someone trying to cut the vampire's throne out of the net to drop into the circle, and some lady horribly laughing below as thick black smoke filled the room. The next thing I remember, I awoke in this prison. I hope we were able to thwart the summoning, but I fear the worst. Especially since the vampire we fought showed clear signs of having been turned, meaning that whatever nest we uncovered, it was not the first one.
But for now, this journal comes to a close. My companions are starting to stir, and we must make plans.